Jess Human

I come from the fatherless tribe . My father was and is currently battling addiction . A fact that that has limited his role in my life, and while I hate to be stereotypical, I have daddy issues. I had not come to terms with this fact until a couple of days ago, while crying... no... weeping, and listening to "I loved her first" by Heartland. [Which, by the way, will not be played at my wedding Thank you very much Spotify!] 😑 My reality? I've never felt enough and consequently no other person around me has been enough. My mom.. she was never able to provide me with enough love to fill the void, my grandmother, my friends, my partner, never enough to make me feel fully loved.  & don't start on the love yourself first bit, that's not the point of this post. My point? My father's addiction, a disease, has created dissonance. I can absolutely rationalize and advocate for addiction to be considered a disease, yet I have a ton of displac...

I knew I wanted to marry Cara in November of 2012. We had been together one year. I was in my first year teaching, and she was off saving the world by responding to  natural disasters and through conservation.  It was the first day of Thanksgiving break. I was exhausted. For my educators out there, you know the refuge that is Thanksgiving Break. I laid on the couch paralyzed from my exhaustion and overwhelmed by the fact that the next day one of my best friends was coming to visit us in St. Louis. Our apartment was a mess , but I couldn't muster up the energy  to clean. This is where Cara stepped in, she turned on her slow jams and went to work. She washed, dusted, mopped and (literally and figuratively) swept me off of my feet . It was in this moment, as she serenaded me to "Your Song" from Moulin Rouge (which is our song), that I realized I could easily spend the rest of my life loving her . Now I would be lying if I said this was the first time I had felt thi...

Today, I listened to a talk. Well …I somewhat listened to a talk. The speaker wanted to advance the audience’s perspective, and to inspire us to create change.   D espite these good intentions, I checked out. Before I go into detail about what caused my disengagement, I need you to know that I don’t consider myself radical. While I often support revolutionary and radical causes, I don’t consider the way in which operate radical. I recognize the detrimental implications of oppression, and injustice, and I attempt to create change within my peripheral. I believe in order to engage in genuine radical acts, one must create a counter culture. To me, radical acts are organized efforts whose aim is to completely shift the dominant paradigm. Conversely, I work within contexts that— If I am going to be completely honest —can perpetuate the status quo. Therefore, I am not radical, analytical… yes, critical…yes, but not radical.   So let’s get back to this talk. The talk open...

Though completely cliché this idiom is the MOST true, and it was never more apparent to me than when I faced an intervention . Ever experienced an intervention? Unfortunately, I have—from my best friends, nonetheless. I was told that if I were “smaller,” I would be “killin’ em.” Apparently I have all of the right features, my complexion and hair, for example, beautiful, but my size...well…it restricts my status as the ‘full package.’ Naïvely, back then, I agreed. I mean...I have been told throughout my life (by multiple sources) that I have good hair and skin. The problem that resulted from this completely unsolicited and quite frankly unnecessary and ineffective intervention was that my already low self-esteem rejected any positive messaging, and I instead internalized another level of body hate. However, my friends were not at fault; they were just trying to be helpful. They only reinforced the shallow, normative beauty standards to which they were also restricted. In fact, the ...

This post was inspired by Madonna’s song Holiday (blame my affinity for 80’s pop-rock on my mother) in which Madonna challenges fans to celebrate life. This cheery little ditty inspired me to attempt to celebrate my professional accomplishments. Honestly, this notion of celebrating myself is quite foreign. I find it difficult to recognize my success; I am my biggest critic. Growing up I may have set some unrealistic expectations—perhaps becoming a millionaire by 25 is quite unattainable when one spends (when one could invest or save) every dime on frivolous exploits like technology and clothing—but I digress. In college I dreamed that I would become a corporate attorney, but this dream was quickly rejected when I enrolled in my first Sociology class in which I learned how the deindustrialization of Detroit led to its decline. Detroit was and will always be home—I realized in that moment that I would rather work for something meaningful. I continued to pursue Sociology, volunteer...

I am the self proclaimed queen of selfies . I mean when my camera is placed at the perfect 35-65 degree, I make art . Don’t believe me? Check out my facebook or instagram , I am a selfie  artist!   I wasn’t born with this gift either—no my friends, it has been cultivated over time. I have worked tirelessly, some might say relentlessly, to perfect my selfie game, which began circa 2005. It’s no coincidence either—nope this artform is completely scripted, rehearsed, edited, revised and intentionally published. Shooting the perfect selfie takes effort, practice and time. The perfect selfie showcases my gorgeous face (my absolute favorite feature) while simultaneously hiding my least favorite…my body. Seeing as I promised transparency and honesty, here it is... I have taken and continue to take selfies because I struggle with body disassociation—I’ve often tried (through my selfies ) to imagine that the grotesque fixture attached to my adorable little head is not my own. Ye...